Through silver swirls of mist from nose,
Come clipping on their metal toes,
The equine beasts of burdened load.

Black plumage feathers from their brows,
Furrowing smart lines of bows,
Of heads, crossed hearts along the road.

Mock respect from hangers on,
Claim a piece of what has gone,
Forgetting when he lived, their fears.

Oversized, the casket, polished hearse,
Excluded mistress, secret curse,
Begrudging of the widow's tears.

Holding hand of bastard son,
A souvenir of what she'd done,
Ashamed of dirty secret nights.

Adulterer lies still within,
Pine box, together with his sin,
Caressed by minster candle lights.

The drone of tartan pipers blow,
Through winter air and frost echo,
A sea of ebony outside.

Rafters burst as priest recites,
Tales of loyal Jacobites,
Appeasing loss already cried.

My father's house with many rooms,
Bright colours in the pride of bloom,
All fail to lift the mood this day.

The stillness held in silent thought,
Grand white lies do simply nought,
To bleach the dullness of the grey.

Ex-convicts, cronies, speak his worth,
Gentleman, salt of the earth,
Insincere dishonest praise.

Shoes to fill, now that he's gone,
A chance there for another one,
Pecking order set ablaze.